


Present, Future Perfect

by PhiraLovesLoki



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Future Fic, Romance, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-12 21:09:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3355349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhiraLovesLoki/pseuds/PhiraLovesLoki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the defeat of the Queens of Darkness, Emma’s duties as sheriff overwhelm her, keeping her from moving forward in her relationship with Killian. She has no reason to believe that the latest report of suspicious activity will be any different, and no idea how different it’ll be. Captain Swan, post season 4, no spoilers for 4B.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Present, Future Perfect

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fictional-redheads](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=fictional-redheads).



> This story was written for Tumblr user fictional-redheads, as part of the 2015 Captain Swan Secret Valentine gift exchange. Happy Valentine's Day!

Emma nervously fingered the small box in her pocket, sighed, and grabbed her keys. Once again, the Savior never got a day off.

Even though the Queens of Darkness had been defeated soundly, and the Dark One disempowered, the citizens of Storybrooke were still on edge, and today was no exception. She’d been working every day for the last two weeks, investigating every report of stray dalmatians (it was just Pongo, who’d gotten off his leash), malevolent-looking briars (the recently-freed nuns had just planted some rose bushes), and suspicious seagulls (she had to admit, the docks had looked like a scene out of _The Birds,_ but they were just gulls being gulls).

At this rate, she was never going to finish moving her belongings into the house she and Killian had decided to rent. She finally— _finally_ —was moving in with a significant other, something she had never thought would happen for her, and … well, she supposed it didn’t count as moving in with your significant other when almost all of his stuff was in the house and almost all of your stuff was still at your old apartment.

She missed the days before Storybrooke, when all of her worldly possessions fit into six or seven medium-sized boxes, and she could pack, move, and unpack in less than a day. But since she’d come back to Storybrooke with Henry, and especially since she’d moved into her own apartment, she’d accumulated what she considered an absurd amount of crap. She had furniture for both herself and Henry, what amounted to a complete kitchen, and all sorts of knick-knacks, photographs, keepsakes, souvenirs, and gifts. She’d only _finally_ finished packing everything, but every time she was ready to call her parents and ask to borrow David’s truck, she got another damn phone call about suspicious animals or plants or people or whatever. Maybe … maybe it was a sign?

When she arrived at the station, her dad wasn’t there, but Killian was, having walked over from Granny’s. The reformed pirate was sitting in the bullpen, leaning back rather dangerously in his chair with his feet crossed and propped up on his desk. His face brightened visibly when he saw her, a sight which never failed to stir up the butterflies in her stomach. “Morning, love,” he said, immediately hopping up from the desk to greet her with a kiss.

“I missed you last night,” she said.

He grinned. “Soon, you won’t ever have to miss me,” he said with a wink.

She rolled her eyes. “Killian, you don’t have to keep staying at Granny’s. We’re going to be in the cottage any day now. You can stay with me.”

“I know, love, but I know how your parents feel about me staying the night,” he reminded her. He was right; although Mary Margaret and David officially approved of the relationship, it had been rough enough getting them on board with the idea that Emma and Killian would be living together unmarried. They _really_ didn’t need to know how often Killian stayed the night at her apartment when Henry was at Regina’s. She’d implored him to at least stay in the new house, since there was no sense in wasting money on a room at the bed and breakfast, but he insisted that he wanted his first night in the house to be _their_ first night in the house, together.

“It’s okay. You’re right; soon, it won’t be a problem.” She kissed him again and smiled. “Let’s go. Dad’s not coming.”

“Taking care of the young prince today?”

“Yeah. It’s been almost two weeks of this crap, and I think Mom might have some kind of episode if she has to bring the baby to town hall _again_ this week.”

“I think perhaps _we_ might have ourselves an ‘episode’ if _we_ don’t get a respite,” he muttered.

She batted his arm playfully. “Come on, Deputy; let’s go investigate.”

As they hopped in the squad car and pulled out of the station’s lot, Emma filled him in. “So, today’s adventure involves reports of some suspicious teens breaking into Gold’s shop. Do you think you’re up for it?” She quickly glanced at her boyfriend before returning her eyes to the road, and sure enough, she spotted his jaw clenching. “You can wait in the car if you need to.”

“I’ll be fine, Swan.” His voice was even, but she knew better than to suspect he was actually calm. “The Crocodile only manages to best me through the use of magic. He might still be an evil man, but he’s just a man.”

“Belle will be there,” she reassured him. “She’s the one who called me.” He visibly relaxed; his friendship with Belle, which had blossomed quite beautifully during Gold’s absence, had weathered the storm that was the Dark One’s return. That, at least, was a relief; it was hard enough to maintain _any_ positive, happy relationships in this damn town, platonic or not …

… No. She couldn’t think like that. Not now.

Fortunately, Gold wasn’t even there. Belle showed them the broken lock on the back door, the drawers in the back room that had been rifled through, and the opened safe. Although Gold’s powers had been neutralized effectively, there were still plenty of powerful artifacts in the shop; Belle had asked Emma and Regina to put protection spells up to ensure the safety of the shop and its wares (and, by extension, the rest of the town). “I’m sorry, Belle,” Emma said apologetically. “The magic should have held.”

“It’s all right,” Belle replied, and even though it really _wasn’t_ all right, she was clearly sincere. “Do you think you and Regina can put up new spells? Perhaps different ones? Rumple suggested blood magic next time.”

“I’ll talk to her,” Emma replied, but she definitely remembered that she herself _had_ used blood magic to seal the safe. “Is anything missing?”

Belle shifted uncomfortably. “There was a wand in the safe,” she said. Emma remembered it; she’d seen it before she’d sealed it in. And she also _remembered_ it from her time in the Enchanted Forest. It was the wand she’d used to reopen the portal. If someone had taken it, this could be really, incredibly, _unbelievably_ bad.

“Okay,” she said, trying to keep her voice calm for Belle’s sake. “Can you describe the people you saw?”

“I think a young man and a young woman, maybe in their teens. Dark hair. They were running away when I got here.”

“Did you see what direction?”

“I think towards the library. Do you need a key?”

“We’ve got one,” Killian replied, clearly trying to end the conversation. “We’ll call you if we find them.”

The library wasn’t far away, but they needed to hurry. Even if a couple of teenagers had the wand, that didn’t mean that they weren’t dangerous. In fact, it could mean they were even _more_ dangerous. As they ran over to the building, Emma dug into her pocket for her key ring, and her fingers accidentally gripped the small box instead. Crap.

“All right, Swan?”

“Yeah, just trying to find my keys,” she reassured him (and herself), and to her relief, she found them.

They didn’t need them, though; the library door had been broken open. Gesturing quickly to Killian, Emma pulled her gun and slowly pushed the door open so they could slip in. Stepping carefully and quietly inside, with Killian right behind her, she began her sweep of the premises. As much as she liked working with her dad, there was something very different about having Killian at her back instead. She wasn’t sure exactly _what_ it was that was different, but whatever it was, she preferred it.

As they crept through the stacks, they heard voices. Good—the perps were still here. Emma turned to Killian to signal him to be as silent as possible, but as soon as she met his gaze, she felt like an idiot. Of course he would be silent. If anything, she’d be the one to give them away. As they approached carefully, the voices became clearer.

“There’s got to be something in this town _somewhere.”_ It was a young woman, probably seventeen or eighteen.

“We should go back to the pawn shop.” Male, maybe fifteen or sixteen. “Maybe there’s a spellbook or something there.”

“Liam, don’t be an idiot. Belle’s there. She probably called _them._ We can’t risk it. Besides, I’m pretty sure this is the right wand. Doesn’t it look like the one from the book?”

“Don’t call me an idiot, Leia. Anyway, I _guess_ it looks like the right wand. So why doesn’t it work?”

“Maybe we need some extra juice, ya know? I think the well was used as a portal before. Remember that story? From how they met?”

Killian caught her gaze, and without speaking, she knew what he’d be saying. _Swan, what on earth are these children talking about? This doesn’t sound good._ She nodded and reached for her cuffs. Whoever these kids were, they had a very powerful magical artifact and they were planning to use it to create some kind of portal; another portal was the _last_ thing she wanted to deal with. “All right, don’t move,” she said, using her badass, bail bonds voice. She stepped around the stacks; Killian immediately and expertly circled around the culprits, effectively surrounding them.

Emma wasn’t surprised to see that she’d estimated their ages correctly, but she _was_ surprised to find that they looked incredibly familiar. She couldn’t quite place _why_ they were so familiar; the terror on their faces probably didn’t help. “Both of you, put your hands behind your backs,” she said calmly, keeping her weapon trained on the girl, who seemed more likely to be in charge, and shaking out her cuffs.

“It’s not what you think!” the boy blurted out; the young woman rolled her eyes noticeably. Yep; the girl was definitely in charge. And she was holding the wand.

“Place the wand on the ground, now—carefully!” Emma said. The young woman only stiffened, but the boy already had his hands behind him, and Killian snapped the cuffs in place around his wrists. “Come on,” she added forcefully. “You don’t want to abandon your buddy here.”

With that, the girl complied, slowly placing the wand on the table next to her (a subtle display of defiance—it was the kind of thing Emma herself would have done); she then put her hands behind her back and turned around. After cuffing the girl, Emma grabbed the wand and unceremoniously shoved it into her jacket pocket, feeling a little bit like Harry Potter.

The teens were silent as they marched between Emma and Killian on the short trip back to the car. As the pirate seated the troublemakers in the back seat of the squad car, Emma quickly called Belle to let her know what happened. “There’s some minor damage to the front door of the library; I’ll call Marco for you. Anything else missing?”

“Not that I’ve found so far.” Belle sounded a little overwhelmed.

“When we’re done booking the suspects, do you want Killian to come by to help sort things out?”

“Oh, no, it’s really okay! Just let me know if you find anything else when you book them.”

“Okay, well … good luck.”

She glanced into the back of the car as she pulled open the driver’s side door to get in; the teens looked absolutely terrified and miserable. Good; served them right for breaking and entering. Twice.

“All right, love?” Killian smiled at her as she buckled her seatbelt, and she felt that familiar twinge of giddiness. But he also looked … concerned. That itself wasn’t strange; he often looked at her with that kind of expression, since he obviously cared about her safety. But his concern was different this time. It wasn’t concern _for her._ It was about the two kids in the back. She felt it, too; something was off.

“Yep. Just let her know what was going on. All right back there?” she asked, raising her voice and checking the rearview mirror. The teens didn’t answer; they simply kept their heads bowed.

At the station, things got _weird._ Or weirder, she figured.

The kids had no ID on them, although their wallets were suspiciously half-empty, as though they had stashed any identification elsewhere. Neither one of the teens would speak either, to Emma or Killian or to each other; they also kept their heads bowed almost constantly, only glancing at each other when they thought they weren’t being watched. Emma had Killian frisk the boy in one of the cells while she brought the young woman into her office (well, the office she shared with David, but _please,_ she was the _real_ sheriff).

To her surprise, the girl finally spoke, although all she did was whisper, “Please don’t,” a couple times as Emma began to check her for weapons or additional stolen objects.

“I have to,” she reminded the girl. “You broke into two buildings and stole something valuable. Don’t worry; if you didn’t steal anything else, this’ll just prove it.” But the young woman just tensed up more.

And that’s when she noticed it. The girl was wearing the same necklaces as Emma was wearing. _Both_ of them. A silver circle on a chain, and a swan seal pendant below it.

She had to consciously stop her hand from reaching up to her own jewelry and confirm it was there. She _knew_ it was there; she put them on every single morning without fail. But she knew the jewelry the girl was wearing had to be the _same_ jewelry. There was a scratch on the swan and a dent in the circle, damage she recalled each piece receiving during various bail bonds jobs.

Her hands shook as she finished frisking the girl quickly; she could have been more thorough, but she told herself that a light frisk and a pocket check would be sufficient to make sure nothing else had been taken from the pawn shop. Without speaking, she led the young woman to the empty cell; Killian had finished dealing with the boy and had locked him in the other. She gestured for him to follow her into the office, but he was already walking.

When she closed the door, she realized he was shaking.

“The boy is wearing my rings,” he whispered, his gaze locked on her face.

“She’s wearing my necklaces,” she whispered back.

“Are you sure?”

She rolled her eyes. “Of _course_ I’m sure.”

He shook his head. “I don’t understand how he could have them. I never take them off—you know that.”

“I know, you’re still wearing them, and I’m still wearing my necklaces.”

“Do you think—”

It hit her like lightning. “Killian,” she hissed, striding towards him and grabbing his jacket. “Killian, she called him _Liam.”_

The color drained from his face as the realization hit him, too. “He called her _Leia.”_

They both turned and looked through the glass towards the cells at the same time.

It was obvious now. The boy, too young for facial hair, was the spitting image of a clean-shaven Killian, with green eyes instead of blue. And the girl had _her eyes_ and _her chin._

Their children. These were _their children._ They’d broken the _blood magic_ seal in the pawn shop because _they were her blood._ They were wearing _their jewelry_ because she and Killian must have _given it to them._

_Their children._

They didn’t have to discuss what to do next. Killian simply nodded at her, and she immediately burst from the office, startling _their children,_ and unlocked the cells. “You might want to try the wishing well,” she said, trying to keep her tone as neutral as possible. It was hard to be convincing, though, with tears clouding her vision. _Their children._ “It has a way of returning lost things to where they belong. Or to whom they belong,” she added, faltering a little bit. She hadn’t heard Killian follow her, but she felt his hook on her shoulder, and he held out his hand: the wand.

“You’re going to need this,” he said quietly, and she could hear the smile and tears in his voice without turning around. He didn’t say, _We did,_ because they probably already knew.

The two children— _their children_ —rushed out without saying a word. Once the door slammed, Emma immediately turned and flung her arms around Killian’s neck; his arms were already around her.

Hours later, after calling Belle with their cover story (suspects escaped custody over the town line, no sign of them) they finally got up the courage to investigate the wishing well. There were plenty of signs of magical disturbance, as though a portal had opened at the site. And the wand lay on the ground next to the well, a tiny wad of paper jammed into the wire hilt.

 _We promise we’ll thank you when we get home,_ was written in neat, curvy script. She felt tears spill down her cheeks, but Killian just chuckled. “Well, they’d better.”

* * *

The next day, Emma informed her parents that no, she and Killian would not be at work, and that they would be borrowing the truck for the rest of the day. If they wanted to protest, she didn’t give them a chance; she simply grabbed her dad’s keys from the ceramic dish on the breakfast bar and walked out the door. By the early evening, with Henry’s help (he was getting disturbingly tall and strong as he went through puberty—it helped make up for the mood swings), all of Emma’s furniture was moved to and set up in the new house. Finally.

After swiftly unpacking his entire room and about half of the kitchen, Henry ducked off to Regina’s, insisting that he’d prefer to “break in” the new house once everything was set up. Emma suspected he just didn’t want to do more unpacking, but she didn’t argue. Killian didn’t either; it meant they’d have privacy on their first night in their new house. _Their_ new house, their _home._ Together.

She’d just finished unpacking her clothes, putting the last leather jacket, besides the one she’d hung up on the freshly erected coat rack, in the tiny master bedroom closet, when Killian’s arms wrapped around her from behind. “Love, it’s almost midnight. I don’t think we can both get away with another day off. Perhaps we should go to bed?”

The suggestive lilt in his voice made her grin. It didn’t matter how late it was; they’d certainly be _going to bed_ before calling it a night. “Okay, there’s just one more thing,” she said. She mused for a moment before adding, “Wait here.”

“As you wish.” He grinned and raised an eyebrow, and she wasn’t sure if having him read _The Princess Bride_ had been a great idea or a terrible one. She settled on great and smiled back before disentangling herself and heading towards the front door.

She returned a few moments later, having fetched the box from her jacket pocket and jamming it into her jeans pocket. Killian was sitting patiently on the bed, his expression conveying his curiosity.

“I, uh …” she trailed off and shook her head. “Okay, this is going to be a mess, but if you could let me just do it, I’d really appreciate it.” His brows knit in confusion, but he nodded. “Ever since we got back from the past, I’ve been trying to sort of throw myself headlong into … this—you know, _us._ I mean, you _know_ how difficult it’s been for me to really open up, especially after what happened with your heart.” Her hand reached out automatically to touch his chest, as it always did whenever she thought about that terrible night, when she’d almost lost him.

“I just kept telling myself that if I ignored my discomfort—if I just pushed past those insecurities—you and I could be happy together. So I kept taking those steps. Asking you out, telling you I loved you, asking you to live together—”

“Swan, are you trying to end our relationship?” he said suddenly.

“What?”

He let out a pained sigh and looked away. “Love, if you didn’t want to live together, forcing yourself to do so … you know I’d never want—”

“Oh, no, _no!”_ She really was doing this all wrong. How did anyone do this right? “No! I’m trying to tell you that I finally realized that I’m _not_ pushing myself anymore.”

“How do you mean?”

“I mean, I really do want this. I’m not out of my comfort zone. _You_ are my comfort zone. When you’re with me, it just feels right. Our partnership is exactly everything I could have ever wanted or needed. I want to live with you—I’m so happy that we _live together,_ you idiot. I want this every damn day.”

At least she’d stunned him into speechlessness; _that_ would probably never happen again. “I love you, you foolish pirate, and I am so damn glad that I made myself take all these risks because every single one has been worth it.” She pried the little box from the incredibly tight pocket of her jeans. “I … I got you a ring. I hope that’s okay. It’s kind of a thing in our family.” That got his attention; his eyebrows shot up. “No, it’s not _that_ ring; you’d have to pry that off my mom’s cold, dead body.”

She knelt on the floor in front of the bed. She wasn’t trying to be traditional; she was just tired of standing while he sat on the bed. She gently opened the box. “I did think that it would be nice to get one with the same kind of stone, but I wanted one that I thought you’d like better. Like, it would go better with your other rings.” She’d found the ring online, browsing her phone during one of her few solitary stake-outs over the past several weeks. It had stuck with her, refusing to leave her mind until she’d placed the order.

“Swan, are you asking me to marry you?”

“Uh, yeah.” Somehow she’d forgotten to actually _ask._ “Do you want to?”

“Is this because of yesterday?” He sounded worried.

“Yes,” she admitted. “But probably not for the reason you think.”

“We know the future,” he reminded her, gently reaching out to touch her arm. “We know we have two children together.”

“That’s not it,” she said, shaking her head. “I promise, that’s not it.”

“Then why?”

“Because I was falling back into my old patterns of thinking. I’d gotten the ring already—I’d made my decision. Everything was going fine, and then I just started _panicking._ And there was no reason to panic. I knew I wanted to live with you and marry you and have kids with you, and when it was finally time to _do_ all that, I froze.

“But seeing … seeing _them,_ and seeing _proof_ that I could do this, that I _could_ have that future with you …”

He cut her off with a kiss before she could find any more words, his mouth coaxing hers open with the brutally joyous passion with which he’d kissed her for the first time after he’d gotten his heart back. He joined her on the floor, kneeling in front of her, his hand tangled up in her hair, as always, and his hook pressing into her back (as always).

She finally broke the kiss. “So I know I didn’t really ask, but I don’t think you really answered.”

He laughed in reply. “We just met our children yesterday, so I think you know that I’m saying yes.”

“Do you want to wear the ring? You really don’t have to—I understand if it’s not, you know, your style.”

“It’s perfect,” he said firmly, and when she looked into his face, she saw no deception. “Help me with it?”

“Which finger do you want to wear it on?”

“Hmm.” He studied his hand for a moment. “Let’s take them all off and see which finger it fits.” She complied, pulling off his rings (which were incredibly stubborn; he really never took the damn things off). To her relief and his delight, it fit his ring finger perfectly.

“Do you want to put the others back on?” she asked.

“No,” he said quietly. “No, I don’t. Because we both know who these rings belong to.”

She nodded. They belonged to their son, Liam.

“Damn it, Swan. I don’t have anything for you.”

“I don’t need anything. You know me; I barely wear any jewelry besides my—” She stopped mid-sentence.

He chuckled. “It’s not like she’s already _here,”_ he pointed out. “Well, I mean, not here _anymore._ You can keep wearing them.”

“But it feels wrong.” She gestured to his rings, which sat in a neat pile on the floor.

“I’ve an idea.” He reached behind his neck and pulled his own necklace up over his head. “You should wear mine.” He smirked. “I always said you’d make one hell of a pirate. And besides, if I’m to wear a token that’s symbolic in your family, it seems apt that you’d wear one that represents where I’ve come from.”

She rolled her eyes. “Again, that’s _not_ my mom’s ring. It’s just the same kind of stone.” But she obediently removed her necklaces, laying them next to the rings.

“Aye, but we both know that if you _could_ have proposed with _that_ ring, you _would_ have. But I’ll happily accept this fine stand-in.” He draped his necklace over her head and she gripped the charms almost unconsciously. They stared at each other for a few moments, each smiling wildly.

“Well,” Emma said, finally breaking the silence. “Wanna christen the new bedroom?”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this story! I'd love to know what you think.


End file.
